ever marching as to war

He keeps making plans for breakfast. The players change, depending on the day, but most mornings find him in the Winchester or someone's kitchen, eager to find some kind of distraction from whatever horrors he witnessed the night before. This morning's no different, finding him sitting across from Rose in a clean set of fatigues, hologram on and expression set to something pleasant. He's not that hungry, truth be told, but he's too wound up for sleep for at least another couple of hours yet, and he'll make the effort to get some food down in the meantime.

"So how're you making out so far?" he asks between mouthfuls.